Coming back to life was always like looking at the world through a bruise. Although it wasn't really coming back to life, it just felt like it.

Eyes gradually focused on the shapes around him and then William Chapman was back in the room and focusing on the form in front of him. Lounging on the cot opposite, two semi-naked girls draped around him, sat The Monkey. A cigar clamped in his mouth added a darker, more acrid smoke to the sweet, cloying stink of the burning opium. His amber eyes shone with an evil mischief that never seemed to leave him.

The Monkey is back...